


Mirage

by dontwaitupxx



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Bittersweet Ending, F/M, Memories, Post-Calamity Ganon, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:02:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26785600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontwaitupxx/pseuds/dontwaitupxx
Summary: There, just before the Guardian Deities was a young Sheikah, just around her age. Her back was facing her, her attire just the same, her long, silver hair pulled back in the same way her old friend's once was.Like a sailor out at sea, she was staring at a mirage: at an island she knew not to be there.Like a wanderer out in the Gerudo Desert, she was staring at an oasis.She knew rationally it was impossible.Impossible, and yet...--Following the final battle, Zelda and Link travel to Kakariko. There, Zelda reunites with an old friend.
Relationships: Impa & Zelda (Legend of Zelda), Link/Zelda (Legend of Zelda)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 64





	Mirage

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to [bhujerban](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bhujerban) for looking this over and fixing all my grammar mistakes.

He knew of a place they could go, Link told her, though the words themselves fell on deaf ears as her sore eyes took in the destruction around her. They were atop his horse–a strong, chestnut mare with soft, kind eyes. Link was talking, a nonstop monologue, as though to fill the silence around them.

They passed by the ruins of the Exchange, the Gatepost Town ruins, the Outpost ruins. Continued on past the destroyed Great Stairs to the Great Plateau. Destroyed husks of Guardians lay scattered around them–some old and rusting, some freshly smoking. Even the roads looked weathered beyond repair.

Indeed, the once vibrant and energized Hyrule Fields were now a wasteland, scarred with the remnants of a country once thriving.

She looked back at Link, her arms circled lightly around his torso. He was still talking animatedly, with wide swooping gestures towards their surroundings. They were the only living things for miles.

“...and I guess I just decided that today was the day, you know? I woke up, looked outside, and knew I was going to Hyrule Castle. And so here we are,” a small smile graced his lips, as his eyes settled on hers for a moment–two–three. “From here,” Link continued on, his gaze settling out towards the East, “I think it would be best to make our way to Kakariko Village. I’m sure Impa will be so happy to see you. It’s one of the few villages that survived major destruction from the Calamity–”

“Wait,” Zelda’s eyes widened, her mind stuck on one word that he said. “Impa. You said Impa. She’s... she’s alive?”

“Alive and well,” Link replied. “I owe so much to her.”

“I... I don’t believe it,” Zelda whispered. “I wasn’t sure that she had survived after that day...”

“That day...” Link echoed.

Zelda fingered the material at the end of his tunic. It was frayed from battle, with bits of it ripped and stained with dirt, blood. His blood? She tried not to think about that too hard, “She was with us when we retreated from the castle but then... we were separated.”

It wasn’t far from their current location, actually. It was probably a little bit more north: closer to Lon Lon Ranch. Zelda could remember it so vividly. It had just begun to drizzle as they fled from the castle. She was flanked by Link on one side and Impa on the other. Storm clouds rolled overhead and, from off in the distance, Hyrule Castle loomed: shadows and burning malice swirling around its spires.

Around them, Guardians crawled and dragged themselves across the fields, their lasers blasting at anything that moved. Citizens were fleeing, babies were crying, and foolish men and women stayed behind to face their certain doom.

They had narrowly escaped a blast from a Guardian and managed to lose it in the chaos. So far, it had seemed that luck was on their side. They thought they were in the clear when–

A Guardian toppled over the shell of a burning building, its eye radiating a paralyzing blue and its shell bleeding a horrible magenta. From behind them were the sounds of multiple Guardians closing in on them. They were cornered, she realized. There was no place to go.

But Impa turned towards the threat, leaping towards the beast with courage she must have wrought from deep within her. She plunged her katana deep into the eye of the beast, watching as it sputtered and sparked before falling apart in a clumsy heap.

She pushed the two of them off towards the opening.

“Go,” she commanded, looking over her shoulder as she faced the oncoming Guardians. “Protect her, Link. I’ll take care of them. Find shelter. Don’t look back.”

From beside her, Zelda could see the minuscule nod from her knight, before his hand grasped hers in an iron grip.

She looked back towards her friend, her heart racing. She couldn’t lose her too. Not after the Champions–her father–her people.

“Impa–” her voice broke, as she reached out towards her as Link beckoned her away.

“There’s no time, Princess.” Impa ground out, her eyes hard as they darted around, watching the shadows of Guardians through the pouring rain, “While you live and breathe, there is still hope. I will hold them off as long as I can.”

“Impa, I can’t lose you!”

“I’ll be fine, Princess,” Impa nodded, her eyes sad as a small smile curled at her lips. “It has been an honor to serve you. I shall see you back in Kakariko.”

That had been the last that she had seen of her friend, before being whisked away by her knight on the worst day of her life.

Now, her mind buzzed, her stomach ached, and divine, golden power threatened to bleed from her fingertips. Impa. Impa had survived. She made it.

“I don’t remember much from that day,” Link confessed, his eyes not meeting hers. “To be honest, I don’t remember Impa at all from before the Calamity. She’s implied that she was with us during our travels, but…” the corners of his lips twitched, “If I didn’t know better, I would think she was lying about that.”

“What makes you think that?” Zelda asked, her mind still buzzing as Impa’s name bounced and collided off the sides of her head. _Impa was alive._

“In all the memories I recovered,” Link began, choosing his words carefully. “Most of what I remembered was of you. It was just you. Nothing else mattered.”

Zelda was left speechless, her mouth hanging open as she processed his words. Impa was alive. Link didn’t remember her. _It was just you._

He looked back towards her, his eyes meeting hers. She snapped her head away, closing her mouth, before gaining her composure.

“Alright then,” she managed, finding her voice. “Lets make our way to Kakariko. I would like to see Impa very much.”

* * *

Stepping into Kakariko was like stepping back in time. From under the wooden chimes and prayer cloths, Zelda and Link rode in. Every house was exactly as she remembered. Every tree and pond and pumpkin patch exactly as it was one hundred years ago. If she allowed herself to believe–to imagine–she could very well convince herself that she was back in time.

They travelled down the hill towards the village center. Looming just before the waterfalls of Lantern Lake was the Elder’s home, exactly as she remembered it. She recalled dangling her feet off of the edge of the porch, with Impa sitting next to her as they spoke of mindless things. Before Link, there was always Impa. Not only was she a trusted warrior and guard, but she was a dear friend. She was flooded with memories of them racing on horseback through the fields, excavating the Shrine of Resurrection on the Great Plateau with Robbie and Purah.She recalled the pride on Impa’s face when she herself had led the excavation to extract Vah Naboris.

Zelda knew that she would never get those days back. One hundred years had changed a lot: friends were dead, citizens were scattered, and Impa…

Well, one hundred years was a long time.

A flash of silver caught her eye. She looked onwards towards the village center and stilled–her mind racing as her eyes deceived her.

No. It couldn’t be. Impossible.

There, just before the Guardian Deities was a young Sheikah, just around her age. Her back was facing her, her attire just the same, her long, silver hair pulled back in the same way her old friend’s once was.

Like a sailor out at sea, she was staring at a mirage: at an island she knew not to be there.

Like a wanderer out in the Gerudo Desert, she was staring at an oasis.

She knew rationally, it was impossible.

Impossible, and yet still…

She felt tears well up in her eyes. It had been dreams that had urged her on throughout her one hundred years. Dreams of one day reclaiming her lands and reuniting with lost friends.

She didn’t realize she had dismounted prematurely and had hurried over to the young Sheikah until she was just behind her.

There she was, just beyond her grasp. She thought about giving into the illusion, even though there was jarring evidence that it could not be her. But...what if it was? Like a fairytale from her youth, perhaps the impossible could become reality.

She gave into her fantasies and pulled the Sheikah into her embrace.

Impa squeaked.

And... the spell broke. The Impa she knew would have never made a sound like that. The young Sheikah turned around, and yes–it wasn’t Impa. Her eyes were rounder, her eyebrows thicker. Her jawline squarer, her lips just a little less full.

Zelda released the girl and wiped her hands down her dirty dress. She now realized just how much of a spectacle she must have made. For these people breathed the story of the Goddess–they studied the ancient texts and the Old Ways and they certainly knew what the significance of Link riding into a Kakariko with a golden maiden would be.

“I’m sorry,” Zelda said, a small blush appearing on her cheeks, “I thought you were someone else.”

If Zelda felt embarrassed, the young Sheikah felt it ten fold. Her reddened cheeks put the Princess’s to shame, “Could you tell me where to find Impa?”

“Oh,” the young girl stuttered, further alienating herself from Zelda’s delusion. “Yes. My grandmother lives up the steps here.”

“Grandmother,” Zelda repeated, and the gears in her mind began to whirl. Of course. It had been a century since she had last stepped foot in this world. It was only rational. Only realistic.

Believing a young Sheikah to be Impa was certainly not rational or realistic.

But… this was her granddaughter. There was no denying that. She was the spitting image of her grandmother one hundred years prior. 

“Princess,” a withered voice whispered on the wind, sharp and piercing, and equally as pressing. Zelda looked up towards the Elder’s home and locked eyes with an old lady.

She stared–she knew it was impolite to stare–and yet she stared: she knew that face, wrinkled as it was. She knew those eyes: creased as they were. She knew that smile: though the gaps between her teeth were new. She knew.

She climbed the steps before she knew what she was doing. She grasped the old lady’s hands, her eyes watering and threatening to burst, “Impa…”

Impa smiled, her frail fingers strong in their grip.

“It’s good to see you back in Kakariko.”


End file.
